


if i could reach and hold your hand i would

by Naomida



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: And I'm Dragging You With Me, Angst and Fluff and Smut, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 07:11:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12383394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naomida/pseuds/Naomida
Summary: The story of Ravandwyr, from the moment he leaves Quel'thalas to join the Kirin Tor, to the day he comes back.





	if i could reach and hold your hand i would

**Author's Note:**

> them: Tehd and Marius  
> you, an intellectual: Koltira and Thassarian  
> me, a genius: Vargoth and Ravandwyr

1\. A Cowboy In This Industry

Ravandwyr was the youngest of seven in a family of hawkstriders breeders. He knew that because, unlike most Kirin Tor apprentices with no family in the mage organization, he was sent to Dalaran at the age of fifty-four, after a sordid affair involving a prince and a fire. His family wasn’t too sad about that predicament – Ravandwyr had proven a long time ago that he was absolutely useless in the business of big birds breeding and with him away, it was one less person to feed and worry about.

Ravandwyr had to admit that it didn’t sting as much as it should have, but he knew that a calm and tranquil life in the Everbloom Forest wasn’t what he was destined for.

On his first day as a Kirin Tor apprentice, however, he realized that the mage organization was taking his destiny into their own hands by making him nothing more than canon fodder.

“Come on,” said one of the three battlemages guiding the twenty something new apprentices, “we won’t get to Kirin’var any faster if you all keep on staring at that portal.”

Ravandwyr’s instincts were telling him to turn around and go back to Silvermoon. He could always find something to do with himself there. Maybe it wasn’t too late.

“Come on,” insisted the battlemage. There were holes in her hood to make way for her long ears, and Ravandwyr couldn’t help but wonder about her, how long she had been with the Kirin Tor, how long she had been a battlemage, if she had known her family or not.

He took a quick look around, at all the humans and the one dwarf in the group. He was the only elf with that battlemage, and he didn’t know whether it would breed kinship or animosity.

He could already sense several pair of eyes on his back coming from some humans so he already knew what to expect from them.

“I’m gonna start pushing you through,” she warned, one last time, before the dwarf finally took a step up and approached the portal that would take them to their future.

“I’ll go,” he said, “see ya on the other side.”

Ravandwyr watched him go without moving, then all the others who followed suit now that someone had taken the lead, feeling detached from the entire ordeal.

“You’re not taking anything with you?” asked the battlemage, stepping next to him and peering at him – he couldn’t see her face behind the hood but somehow he _knew_ that she was.

He looked down at the rag of robes he had managed to buy with his meager economies before coming, just so he didn’t have to look at her, and shrugged.

“I don’t have anything else to bring,” he said.

She nodded, before gesturing for him to cross the portal too, and now that he didn’t have a choice he did, leaving Azeroth behind for Draenor.

  


  


***

  


  


Three apprentices died before they could reach the boat waiting to take them to their destination.

No one said anything about it, but the atmosphere was grim and heavy the entire ride – that lasted the entire evening and night, making it the first boat ride Ravandwyr had ever been on and the longest he would ever be on, because after this experience he promised to himself to learn teleportation spells as soon as he had the opportunity, so he never had to step on a boat ever again.

They arrived at Kirin’var just as the sun was rising, and Ravandwyr, who had been frowning and pouting at the _green_ water for a while now, couldn’t help but be impressed. The city was bigger than he had imagined, and the big mage tower sitting right in the middle of it made the whole place even more stunning. He was one of the first to leave the boat and finally step on the ground, keeping his eyes firmly turned to the tower.

All the apprentices had been told, before leaving Dalaran, that they would meet the Archmage running the city and a few lucky ones would be able to be their apprentice and learn directly from them. Ravandwyr didn’t have a lot of hope for that, but he still wished for a miracle. The view from the top of that tower was probably the most magical thing he could find in this city, and he was determined to witness it.

“Come on,” muttered one of the battlemages with them, a grim human woman with ashy-blond hair, “the barracks are that way, you’ll get settled and meet us at the town hall for breakfast.”

Ravandwyr didn’t know how he was supposed to find the town hall and what ‘getting settled’ meant for someone who had brought nothing with him, but he followed the group to the barracks, made sure to choose a bed at the very far end of the common dormitory they were all assigned, and got out of there while people started to fight over who got the dresser closer to their bed.

He started walking through the city with slow steps, looking around and trying to take it all it, feeling a little dizzy with how different it was from what he was used to. Everything, from the smell and the temperature to the general architecture left him awed and curious. He had seen humans before, of course, but never this many, and he surely had never seen a city made by them.

Then there was the fact that he was on another planet entirely.

The sky was the most confusing part, and he didn’t take his eyes away from it until he bumped into someone and was almost knocked back on his ass.

“I’m sorry,” he said, in Thalassian by reflex, before he looked up and met icy blue eyes. “I mean...” he started in Common before being cut off by a low chuckle.

“It’s fine,” said the man in Thalassian too, although he was _obviously_ human and not elf. “Did you just arrive with the new apprentices? You have that look newcomers usually have when they first see this new world.”

Ravandwyr nodded, eyes roaming over the man’s face. He couldn’t really give him an age, not having seen a ton of humans before to compare, but he liked his shoulder length strawberry hair, and the matching goatee. The kind smile was only a bonus.

He swallowed and tried to remind himself that liking someone else’s hair and wondering how it would feel to run his fingers through it was what had brought him here in the first place, but it looked like it wasn’t a lesson he was ready to learn yet.

“I hope the trip went well.”

“Not really,” replied Ravandwyr with a kind of honesty he wasn’t used to. “The boat ride was… interesting, to say the least.”

“You’ve never traveled by boat before?” asked the man with surprise.

“I’ve never traveled much at all, and I can safely say that I won’t be getting into a boat any time soon if I can help it.”

The man laughed, small lines appearing at the corner of his eyes, and Ravandwyr, at the exact second he smiled back and their eyes met, knew that he would get into trouble because of that man, one way or another.

“What about you?” he said, because he needed to know more about him, “have you been here long?”

“Oh yes, I was one of the first persons here,” he replied.

Ravandwyr nodded, thoughtfully looking down at the robes he was wearing. There were fancy, and he had matching cape and shoulder plates, which meant that he was probably a battlemage too. Maybe he spent time in the Tower with the Archmage on a regular basis.

“How was it, when you first arrived?”

The man took a look around, his eyes going distant for a second, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “It was a lot smaller, and there was only a handful of us,” he said, turning back to Ravandwyr, “It hasn’t been that long, but I think no one expected us to last this long, and the village grew quite a lot. We used to be able to fit everyone in the mage tower, and now look.” He gestured at large at the buildings surrounding them, houses and an inn and what looked like it could be a town hall, but Ravandwyr stayed focused on him.

“The tower,” he said, “have you been at the top of it?”

“Yes.”

“How is the view?”

Laughing out loud, the man stepped closer to Ravandwyr and took a quick look at the tower, visible above all the roofs form where they were standing, on the other side of the city.

“It’s the most magical thing here,” he said with an air of secrecy, making Ravandwyr bit down on a huge smile. “I’m sure you’ll get to see it soon, too.”

“I hope I will.”

The man looked up at him and smiled, the gesture feeling somewhat intimate because of their proximity, and Ravandwyr couldn’t help but smile back.

“I better go now,” said the man after a moment, although he didn’t step back. “I’m Vargoth, what’s your name?”

“Ravandwyr.”

“Ravandwyr,” he repeated, as if testing the word. His Thalassian was perfect but he did have a trace of an accent and it could be heard when saying Ravandwyr’s name, but the elf found that he liked it more like that.

It was endearing, somehow.

“I’ll see you soon, Ravandwyr, and until then, take care.”

“You too,” he replied, smiling and not moving as Vargoth finally stepped away, gave him one last smile and turned around to leave.

The robes hid everything, but Ravandwyr found that his imagination was enough as his eyes trailed down his back and he watched him go.

  


  


***

  


  


Being an apprentice in Kirin’var didn’t turn out the way Ravandwyr had expected it to. He had lessons all mornings to learn how to be a half decent mage, and in the afternoons everyone was assigned a different chore around the village.

Unfortunately for Ravandwyr, who had done nothing in his life before except take care of hawkstriders – or at least half-assing it – the only task that they could find for him was taking care of their livestock.

Thankfully, what people had called livestock was only forty or so chickens and two goats, and while the latter were hard to work with, chickens were basically like hawkstriders, but with a better temperament and a lot less strength, so it worked out okay for him.

At least that was what he told himself, because the truth was that he spent all afternoons and evenings bored out of his mind. Even the classes weren’t that great, but at least he had to stay focused when sitting at his desk and listening to the various mages that came in and acted as their teachers.

Thankfully, he had something to occupy his mind while he was tending to the chickens and goats: Vargoth.

He had seen the man twenty-five times since their first meeting, always way too early in the morning, right at the corner between the inn and the town hall. They talked for about an hour each time, about everything and anything, always in Thalassian, and Ravandwyr, although a little ashamed by that fact, had to admit that he was starting to develop a crush on him.

It was a little ridiculous, especially considering the fact that a crush gone wrong had been what had gotten him there in the first place, and he obviously hadn’t been sent here to flirt with some hot guy who also happened to be a more or less important figure in the village – he still wasn’t totally sure about that fact – but he couldn’t really do anything about it now, could he?

Vargoth was, for the most part, receptive to his flirting and even flirted back once or twice, but whenever Ravandwyr tried to steer the conversation toward that territory, Vargoth always changed subject and started to talk about more professional things, like how his classes were going and what he had learned in them.

It stung a little, but Ravandwyr could understand why he acted this way. After all, there was an obvious power imbalance there, with Ravandwyr being the livestock-apprentice and Vargoth being a battlemage – who, considering some of the stories he had heard, had seen quite some battles already – but it was fine. Ravandwyr was determined to climb the ladder and become a battlemage too, and once it was done, there wouldn’t be anything to refrain Vargoth from responding to his advances.

It was with that goal in mind that he showed up to class every mornings, discovering without any surprise after about two weeks that he had an affinity with fire magic and trying his best to still succeed in casting arcane and frost spells.

All in all, after about three month of living in Kirin’var, he had to admit that things weren’t as bad as he had thought they would be when he had first heard that he was to go to Draenor. Sure, orcs had tried to raid the village eight times in that period of time, but each time they had been pushed back with minimal loss on their part, and Ravandwyr hadn’t died yet. In fact, his life was going well, what with the fact that he was finally learning to cast fireballs and he was pretty sure Vargoth was meeting him on purpose in the morning.

That didn’t prepare him for what happened on the third month anniversary of his arrival at the village. He sat at his usual desk in the classroom, and waited for their teacher of the day to arrive.

Vargoth walked into the room.

Ravandwyr’s heart started beating faster.

“Hello everyone,” said Vargoth, eyes passing over everyone in the room and stopping just for a second on Ravandwyr, his expression not changing, “I’m Archmage Vargoth, Master of Kirin’var Village.”

Ravandwyr’s heart missed a beat.

“You’ve all been here for three months already,” he continued, apparently not realizing that Ravandwyr’s little fantasy world had just shattered around him, leaving him gasping for _something_ as his eyes refused to look away from the man facing the apprentices, “and I’ve been following your progress from afar while your teachers tested your abilities. I feel like now is a good time to choose my apprentices, and for your teachers to choose theirs. Ravandwyr, Naberius, Melrum, congratulations, you’ll meet me at the mage tower at the end of the class. As for the others, your teachers will get in contact with you during lunch.”

Stunned, Ravandwyr turned to the dwarf sitting to his left, Melrum, who was maybe the only friend he had made so far, and could only nod when Melrum gave him a smile and said something that he didn’t register through the buzzing in his ears.

Vargoth was the Archmage.

He was one of the Archmage’s apprentices.

He was Vargoth’s apprentice.

He turned away from Melrum and stared straight down at his hands on his desk, feeling numb, deaf to the sound of Vargoth’s voice as he started his lesson, and wondered how in the world he hadn’t known that the cute man he flirted with most mornings was the Archmage and Master of the village.

  


  


***

  


  


“Alright,” said Vargoth with a smile when the three of them showed up at the tower after lunch.

Ravandwyr hadn’t had time to wash his hair the night before, so he smelled like chicken shit and goat, and while it wouldn’t have been a problem if he had spent his afternoon taking care of the animals, it made him feel completely out of place as he stepped on the stoned floor of the tower and followed Vargoth up a flight of stair.

“You’ll be residing in the tower now, there’s a room for each of you on the first floor. You’ll have time to get settled in before diner, for now we need to get to work,” he said as they passed a large wooden door on the first floor and continued going up.

He kept talking on the way up, but Ravandwyr was too focused on ignoring the burn in his thighs from all the stairs to pay him any attention, and once they were finally at the top of the tower, the first thing his eyes fell upon wasn’t the giant desk literally covered in parchment, or the rows and rows of book covered shelves.

The first thing he saw was the large window and he walked towards it without even realizing, mesmerized by what he was seeing.

The view _was_ magical.

Kirin’var was spread at his feet, busy and loud and so tiny from up here, abruptly coming to a stop where the Devouring Sea started, rows of blue rooftops leaving place to green water gleaming in the afternoon sun. Looking up, he wondered if the two moons looked different at night from up here, and was abruptly brought back to reality when a warm voice said, right next to him, “Magical, isn’t it?”.

Ravandwyr turned his head and met smiling icy blue eyes, his heart squeezing uncomfortably in his chest even as he nodded, not sure he would be able to find words quite yet.

“You’ll see, it’s even better at night,” added Vargoth, his smile only growing bigger as he reached up and quickly squeezed Ravandwyr’s shoulder, before he was stepping away and walking to the other two apprentices, who were looking at some books.

Ravandwyr was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to feel like his skin was on fire just because Vargoth had touched him through a layer of fabric, but he did anyway, and he bit down on his lip until it hurt as he watched the Archmage start to talk to Naberius, the only human apprentice he had chosen.

Something told him that this apprenticeship was going to be very painful.

  


  


2\. World’s Turning Around You

Ravandwyr was probably the worst apprentice ever. He messed up a lot, and his Common wasn’t the best ever. In fact, his accent and the small mistakes he sometimes made when talking the humans’ language earned him snickers and mockery from other apprentices, especially Naberius, and the fact that Vargoth never said anything about it only made matter worse. Ravandwyr didn’t know whether he just wasn’t paying a lot of attention to what Ravandwyr was saying or if he was just too embarrassed for him to correct him, but the elf was taking it pretty badly every time he said something that had people snicker and no one to explain to him why.

It was after one of those times that Azaeyn, the elf battlemage who had accompanied his group to Draenor, found him. He was sitting down on the landing where he had first arrived in Kirin’var, arms wrapped around his legs as he pouted up at the early evening sky and all the unfamiliar stars glinting down at him.

“It gets better,” she said after a long moment of silence.

Ravandwyr turned to look at her, but her eyes were fixed on the horizon.

In the low light, her hair looked more auburn that its usual fiery red, but her eyes were glimmering, a familiar blue that strangely helped when Ravandwyr was feeling too homesick, and not for the first time since he had gotten to know her, he was grateful to have another high elf to talk to.

“I was seventy-two when I joined the Kirin Tor, you know. That’s way too old for most, but they needed people and I was half decent, so they accepted me. All those humans, they haven’t lived half as long as you yet, and they mock you because you can’t speak their language perfectly, but you have to know that they’re also jealous, because you’re better than them.” She turned and met his eyes straight on, brows slightly furrowed and drooping a little at the end – she was serious, and sad, and so many other things that Ravandwyr understood but couldn’t put into words. “We’re high elves, Ravandwyr. We’ll always be better than them at magic, that’s the cold truth, and we all know it. That’s why they’re making it so hard for you, because they know that given the chance, you’ll outshine every single one of them.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” he replied, voice barely above a whisper, feeling his own eyebrows and ears drooping, and Azaeyn immediately put her hand on his shoulder.

“You _will_ ,” she said, “I’m willing to bet my life on it. You’re naturally talented, you just have to believe in yourself the same way we do.”

“We?”

“Me, Archmage Vargoth,” she shrugged when he looked surprised. “He chose you as his apprentice, hasn’t he? That’s because he sees something in you, something that I see too. Don’t despair, it’s only going to get easier past a certain point.”

“I can barely cast a blizzard.”

“But I’ve seen you create the biggest cinderstorm I’ve ever seen,” she immediately replied, lips curling in amusement. “You’re a good mage, and you have the potential to be great, you just need to get up and stop pouting like that.”

Snorting, Ravandwyr knocked his shoulder against hers and nodded.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

“I know,” she replied, starting to get up, “I wished I had someone older to tell me those things when I was in your spot.”

“Still...”

She smiled and offered him a nod that he returned, before turning around and starting to walk back towards the busy streets, leaving him alone with the sea and a new kind of hope for his future.

  


  


***

  


  


Ravandwyr didn’t know what to think about his relationship with Vargoth. The archmage was, obviously, his mentor, but it felt like he was also a little more – and that was without even taking into account the fact that Ravandwyr was pretty sure he had fallen in love with him after their fourth or fifth interaction.

Vargoth got out of his way to be _nice_ to him in a way he never did with the other two apprentices. He explained difficult concepts to him in Thalassian when Ravandwyr had a hard time understanding. He always greeted him with a smile. He always made sure to encourage him when he failed and to congratulate him when he succeeded at something. He looked happy and eager to help whenever Ravandwyr banged on the door to his personal chambers, sometimes in the middle of the night, to ask a question. He had even gotten out of his bedroom, strawberry hair a mess and an adorable crease on his left cheek once, just to show him how to properly cast a spell.

The flirting had totally stopped, because Ravandwyr really didn’t want to be _that person_ , but he sometimes couldn’t help but let his gaze linger, and he could say with confidence that he could feel Vargoth’s eyes linger on him when he thought he wasn’t looking too.

Sometimes, when Ravandwyr was handing him something and their fingers brushed, their eyes also met and Ravandwyr swore that for a moment time would just stop.

Ravandwyr was up early that morning, and instead of starting to study as soon as he had slipped into his apprentice robes, that were a lot nicer than what he had been wearing before, he decided to take a stroll through town. It was a rare indulgence since he had come to work for Vargoth, but ever since his talk with Azaeyn he tried to be a little easier on himself.

He got out of the tower and started walking down the streets with the sea to his left, walking at a slow pace and keeping his eyes turned to the few still visible stars in the sky. He didn’t think he would ever get used to how different the sky was here, compared to Azeroth’s, and he didn’t even realize that he wasn’t paying attention to where he was walking up until he smacked into someone from behind and fell down on his ass.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered in Common, before looking up with surprise when he received a chuckle and meeting Vargoth’s eyes.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” joked the archmage, in Thalassian, holding out his hand.

Ravandwyr grabbed it, feeling electricity run up his arm when their palms touched, and got up on his feet.

Vargoth, surprisingly, didn’t let go of his hand.

“Are you taking a walk?” he asked, and Ravandwyr nodded, at a loss of word, all of his senses turned to his hand in Vargoth’s grip. “Would you mind walking with me?” The elf shook his head, and couldn’t help but feel a pinch of disappointment when his hand was freed.

They started walking in silence, their arms brushing every three steps or so, in the quiet streets which only served to create a _very_ intimate atmosphere that had Ravandwyr feel a little warm and tingly.

“I like to walk early in the morning,” said the archmage after the silence had stretched for a while, “it helps me think and it’s one of the few moments I can be alone with myself. That’s why we met so much at the beginning of your stay here.” He offered a smile to Ravandwyr, who felt himself respond in kind immediately, as if he couldn’t _not_ smile if Vargoth was. “I miss our conversations, you know. It was refreshing to speak of something other than work.”

“I didn’t know who you were back then, that’s why I talked to you so freely,” honestly replied Ravandwyr, because he had learned pretty early on that he couldn’t lie to him – he didn’t want to, and the man brought out the vulnerable part of him anyway, which prevented him from hiding anything.

“I know,” replied the archmage, looking away in shame, cheekbones coloring. “I want to apologize for that. I should have been honest with you, and while I know this is not an excuse, I liked those unfiltered talks. Everyone is always careful around me, and you seemed interesting, I wanted to get to know you without my title getting in the way.”

Ravandwyr bit down on a smile.

“I hope I didn’t disappoint and _did_ turn out interesting,” he said despite his best effort to treat him professionally.

The look Vargoth gave him was equally surprised and pleased.

“You’ve exceeded all my expectations, if I have to be honest. You’re smart, talented, hard working, funny and...” he trailed off as they stopped walking, Ravandwyr turning to face him, heart beating a little faster in his chest.

Vargoth was looking at him through his eyelashes, an air of shyness and determination on his face.

A gust of air forced Ravandwyr to run fingers through his hair, trying to get it out of his face, just as Vargoth was finishing his sentence by saying: “and you’re beautiful.”

Heart missing a beat, the elf just stared at him, hair flying everywhere and not knowing what to do as Vargoth blushed a dark red and looked down at his feet.

“Sorry,” he said after a few seconds, nervously reaching with a hand for the back of his neck, “you probably don’t want to hear that coming from me.”

“No, I do,” immediately replied Ravandwyr, taking a step closer and meeting his eyes when the archmage looked up with surprise. “You’re beautiful too. Handsome in a way the other men here aren’t. You’re smart too, and you have _such_ a kind heart, I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be so nice.” He swallowed with difficulty, a knot of strange and vulnerable emotions welling up behind his adam’s apple. “I… those are exactly the kind of words I want to hear coming from you, ever since we met. I...”

He stopped himself before he could say something foolish like “I’m in love with you”, but judging by Vargoth’s expression, he had heard the words loud and clear anyway.

He stepped closer instead of responding and grabbed one of Ravandwyr’s hands, gently running his thumb on the back of it, a tiny happy smile on his lips and a huge ecstatic one in his eyes.

“I’m glad,” he said, even more soft spoken than usual, “because I’ve been agonizing over my feelings for you and what to do about them ever since our eyes first met.”

Ravandwyr smiled, his cheeks practically hurting with it.

“What are you suggesting?”

Vargoth shrugged a shoulder.

“We have time to think it over, don’t you think?”

The elf nodded, and after a moment of just adoringly looking at each other with stupid smiles they started walking again, still holding hands.

  


  


***

  


  


After this, Ravandwyr’s life went from good to amazing pretty quickly. He spent most of his evenings with Vargoth at the top of the tower, most of the time in his chambers, talking for hours on end while only exchanging shy but still intimate touches.

They hadn’t talked about their experiences with other men – they hadn’t even talked about this relationship they were in – but it was clear that Vargoth wanted to take it slow, and Ravandwyr was all too happy to comply. Just talking to him was enough to leave the poor elf starstruck and dreamy for _days_.

Still, he was only an elf, and one night, as they were both sitting down on the floor of Vargoth’s teeny tiny balcony, the archmage talking about the stars and what the orcs had taught him about them, Ravandwyr couldn’t help himself.

He was staring at Vargoth’s profile, who’s whole attention was turned to the sky, and there was something about the very low lighting and the fact that they were so close together, Vargoth’s smell making him a little dizzy. Without really realizing that he was moving, Ravandwyr edged closer still, until the warmth of the man’s shoulder was brushing against his chin, and when Vargoth threw him a quick glance and words died on his tongue as he realized how close the elf was, Ravandwyr couldn’t help but raise a hand to his cheek, thumb running over his cheekbone.

“May I?” he asked, a whisper in the night, feeling Vargoth’s pulse jump when his hand trailed down to his neck.

He nodded and Ravandwyr crossed the final inches separating them, heart jumping in his throat when their lips touched.

The goatee was new territory – all the men Ravdnwyr had previously kissed in his life had been elves, who only ever had small and very well kept beards – but he found that he liked how it tickled his chin and lips, and when Vargoth’s mouth opened under his and he started kissing back, the apprentice found that he had better things to think about.

Like how warm and inviting Vargoth was.

Ravandwyr brought his other hand up, cupping his face and moving to get on his knees so he could press against him more fully and get a better angle, feeling himself melt when Vargoth grabbed the back of his head, fingers burying in his hair.

He wanted to stay like this forever, he thought when Vargoth gasped against his lips and shuddered after a little bite. Nothing but Vargoth kissing him, and the starry sky of a foreign planet.

  


  


***

  


  


“You’ve been with men before.”

It wasn’t a question, nor an accusation, and Vargoth kept his eyes closed and only hummed in agreement.

Ravandwyr had to admit that he was surprised by how well their first time had went. He had been expecting some awkwardness and more fumbling, and had had one of the best sex of his life instead – but then again, when was Vargoth not surprising him in a good way?

Which brought him to that point he had raised.

“Are you surprised?” asked the archmage, eyes still closed, laying on his stomach, arms crossed under the pillow while Ravandwyr had planted himself on an elbow to better watch him.

“Not really. It’s just...”

“It took us some time to get to this point?” he asked with a tiny smirk, finally opening his eyes to watch him.

Ravandwyr gave him a goofy smile instead of replying, putting his hand between Vargoth’s shoulder blades and just stroking the skin there, know that now that he had _finally_ had a test of him – two months after their first kiss – he’d never stop wanting him.

“I’ve been with a man before,” said Vargoth, something painful flashing in his eyes. “It didn’t end well, and I didn’t think I would ever want to be with someone else.”

 _I’ll never hurt this man_ , thought Ravandwyr, running claw-like nails down his back just to watch him shiver, hand settling right over his kidney.

“Then you met me,” he said.

“Then I met you,” smiled Vargoth, chuckling when Ravandwyr leaned closer to kiss down his shoulder and up to his cheek. “Will you let me sleep now?”

“Nope,” replied the elf, repeatedly kissing his cheek until Vargoth finally turned his head and let him have access to his mouth.

The kiss was slow, and way too sloppy, but perfect for the afterglow, and as their legs brushed under the rumpled sheet and Ravandwyr plastered himself to the archmage’s side, hand disappearing down his back to grip his ass, he silently reaffirmed his promise never to hurt him.

  


  


***

  


  


“You look happy,” commented Azaeyn, squinting at him in the sun.

“That’s because I am,” he replied, stopping what he was doing to turn to her and wipe his forehead with the back of his hand.

Working directly in the ley lines excavations, while being a huge step-up from tending to the chickens and goats, was still tedious work, but Ravandwyr couldn’t complain – not when Vargoth was out on the field with them, wearing a plain white shirt instead of his usual robes and his hair glinting under the sun.

Something strange and potentially dangerous was happening to Draenor, so everyone had gone out to work on the ley lines, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make the best out of it.

“That’s good, I’m glad for you.”

Ravandwyr frowned and took a closer look at her.

“What?” he asked when she just defiantly stared right back at him.

“I know your little secret, you know.”

His heart skipped a beat but he forced himself not to show it.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I can read an elf, and you’re way too used to only having humans around. Your ears say everything that the rest of your body don’t. You’re in love with the Archmage, but more interestingly, it seems like the two of you are together.”

Sending a panicked look around, Ravandwyr stepped close enough that he could feel the warmth coming off of her, and bared his teeth.

“Relax,” she said, “I don’t care. Light, I’m even happy for you – the _both_ of you.”

“Why are you telling me this then?”

“Because I have a secret of my own to tell you, and because I need your help.”

“You don’t have to blackmail me into it, we’re friends, I’d help you no matter what.”

She rolled her eyes harder than before and stepped away from him, looking away at the rest of their group working.

“I’m pregnant, Ravandwyr,” she said, her tone leaving no clue as to how she felt about it. “Spells can hide the physical changes, but it won’t help me delivering. You’re the only other elf around here, and I’m pretty sure that considering where you’re from, you’ve already seen a baby or two being delivered.”

Stunned, he only managed to nod, distantly thinking that it had been eight babies he had helped bring to the world, not just one or two.

“And as I’ve said, you’re the only other elf around here. You understand what it means.”

Once again he nodded, heart squeezing painfully in his chest.

One of his cousin had had a half-human baby once, after her parents had learned that she was pregnant and forced her to go live with Ravandwyr’s family. The baby hadn’t survived his first week, and his cousin had died during delivery.

He didn’t want to think about his friend bleeding out while trying to give life.

“Who’s the father?” he asked after a while, once he had found his voice again and was certain that she wasn’t going to snap at him.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said before starting to walk away from him.

  


  


***

  


  


Ravandwyr woke up in the middle of the night, knowing that something was wrong.

For a moment he stayed unmoving, naked from the chest up, with one of Vargoth’s arm thrown over his waist and the archmage softly snoring against his ear.

He frowned when he didn’t hear anything but his instinct continued to tell him that something was _very_ wrong and he needed to move. He debated waking Vargoth for a moment, before deciding against it and slowly sliding out of bed.

Vargoth barely reacted – probably because they had a lot of practice, considering that Ravandwyr slid out of bed and went back to his own chambers before dawn every day – and Ravandwyr silently put his robes back on before leaving the room.

The tower was absolutely silent, but that didn’t mean something wasn’t lurking around a corner to jump on him.

He went down the stairs like his ranger brother had taught him, staying in the shadows and not making any noise, and arrived at the bottom of the tower two minutes later without finding anything.

Outside of the tower though, just on the other side of the door, he found a shaking Azaeyn on the ground.

“It’s happening,” she murmured in Thalassian when he threw himself at her, suddenly feeling a little panicked.

“Alright, okay, we got this. We’re prepared, it’s gonna be fine.”

Her lower lip wobbled when she nodded, but she did get to her feet when he helped her up, and together they started walking toward the tent they had prepared for this, just outside of Kirin’var, where no one would come bother them.

Once she was sitting on the furs, back propped against the biggest pillow they had managed to make, Ravandwyr started burning the incense. It was impossible to find or even make the traditional one, not now that the Dark Portal was closed and they had no way of going back to Azeroth, but Ravandwyr had managed to make do with the local plants and some of the Azerothian spices they were growing in the village, and judging by Azaeyn’s grateful smile, it would do.

Then, the hard work started.

Thankfully they were both mages, so warm water wasn’t hard to come by, but helping a friend deliver a baby all by himself was a challenge, and by the time the sun started rising and Ravandwyr could _finally_ get a good look and grip on the Baby’s head, he was ready to collapse with exhaustion.

“Come on, I can see the head,” he said, squeezing her knee comfortingly.

She smiled and pushed again, and for a second the thought that he was so tired he was starting to hallucinate crossed Ravandwyr’s mind, but she pushed hard and more of the baby came out and he realized with a gut punch that he wasn’t hallucinating.

He froze for a second, wondering if the baby was still-born and that was why he wasn’t peach skinned _at all_ , but Azaeyn groaned in pain and effort, and he went back to action, doing his best to keep a straight face.

It took more hours. Longer than he had been expecting, but Azaeyn wasn’t bleeding _much_ and the baby, larger than any he had ever seen before, finally came out.

For a moment, Azaeyn and him just stared at him in the silent tent, waiting.

“Ravandwyr,” she murmured, eyes filling up with tears.

“It’s gonna be fine,” he replied, gently rocking the baby, something very akin to panic growing in his chest because that baby wasn’t half human like he had been expecting, but probably half orc. He guessed. There weren’t a lot of other creatures with green skin and teeth this big and sharp on Draenor. “He’s going to cry.”

The baby took his time, but after a minute or so he did start to bawl, loud enough to hurt Ravandwyr’s ears, but Azaeyn chuckled and held her arms out for him, so he handed him over and tried to pretend that he didn’t feel emotional too.

“What’s his name?” he asked after giving them a moment.

“Danar,” she said, not looking away from the baby. “His father insisted.”

She looked up when he didn’t reply, daring him to say something, but he only shook his head.

“I don’t care about who his father is, I care about _you_.”

She bit down hard on her lip and looked back down at the baby.

“I have to leave,” she said.

And then she tried to get up and almost dropped her son as she fell.

“You’re not going anywhere for now,” sternly said Ravandwyr, grabbing the small blanket he had made himself – red and golden, colors for a high elf – and wrapping the baby in it.

“I can’t stay,” she replied, glaring as he took the baby away from her.

“Maybe, but you can’t leave right now this instant. I need to clean him and you need to rest for a while. You can leave in a day, if you really insist, but not now. You won’t be able to get far in this state and it’ll end up being worse than staying for a day.”

She kept quietly glaring at him with pinched lips for a moment before finally sighing and reclining back against the pillows.

“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, “but I’m leaving tomorrow and nothing you can say will stop me.”

“I know,” he replied, before reheating some water.

  


  


***

  


  


The town was agitated, three evenings later, but Ravandwyr didn’t want to take part in it. People went missing every six months or so, most of the time killed by a rogue orc or some beast that had come a little too close to the town, but it had never happened to a battlemage before, and everyone was more or less persuaded that they were all going to die.

He knew the truth, and he wasn’t sure it was any better.

So, instead of getting agitated with the rest in the Town Hall, he had come here, on the little landing where he had first arrived, facing the dark waters and black, strange sky.

He missed the cool breeze and warm sun of Quel’thalas, the big towers of Silvermoon, the Light from the Sunwell greeting him from the horizon. Azaeyn had been the only other elf here, and apart from Varagoth, he had no one else to talk in Thalassian with. No one to make jokes about what the humans called food. No one to go talk to when he was getting homesick.

The wood of the landing creaked as someone approached, but Ravandwyr didn’t move. He already knew who it was – could recognize his steps and the small thrill of _something_ in his chest whenever he was in Vargoth’s presence.

The archmage sat down next to him, close enough that their arms and knees touched, and for a while he just looked at him, his gaze a warm touch on Ravandwyr’s face.

“You know what happened to her.”

“She’s gone,” he replied, voice almost not shaking, and when Vargoth wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him closer, Ravandwyr didn’t even try to hide his tears, hands curling into fists in Vargoth’s robes as he let himself cry into his arms.

  


  


3\. With Kisses, I Love Yous, Below and Above You

The end of the world happened on a sunny and hot day.

That day started like any other day for Ravandwyr. He woke up when the sun started shining directly in his face, laying naked in Vargoth’s bed – although, really, it was _their_ bed now, since Ravandwyr couldn’t even remember when was the last time he had used the one in his bed chambers.

For a while he just laid there, soaking in the sun and warmth of the bed, before a hand gently touched his shoulder and caressed down his arm, making him smile.

“Good morning,” slurred Vargoth.

Ravandwyr rolled over, finding him splayed in the bed next to him, squinting up at him with his hair a complete mess on the pillow. It took his breath away and felt like a punch in the guts, like usual, and Ravandwyr didn’t even reply, he just leaned over and kissed him.

Vargoth chuckled into the kiss, but he also cupped Ravandwyr’s face between his hands and kissed him back, and for a moment time stopped and _everything was perfect_.

Then Vargoth broke the kiss, looked up at him with adoring eyes and said, voice hoarse: “We’re going to be late.”

Ravandwyr laughed, tracing the contour of his lips with an index.

“You’re the master of the city, you can be late if you want.”

“What about you?”

“I only obey the Archmage.”

“I am the Archmage.”

“Not in this bedroom.”

Vargoth playfully bit down on his finger, and Ravandwyr responded by biting his shoulder, before turning it into nips up his neck, until his jaw that he bit harder, making Vargoth grunt.

“We don’t have the time,” he whispered even though he let go of Ravandwyr’s face to grip his waist and pull him closer.

“Should I stop?” smirked the elf, already knowing the answer.

“Don’t you dare,” he said, surging up to kiss him, before rolling them over and starting to grind down on him.

Really, that day started out amazing, in Ravandwyr’s honest opinion.

  


  


***

  


  


At midday, Ravandwyr had lunch with Melrum and Vargoth, trying to pretend that he wasn’t staring at the archmage the whole time. He felt like his insides were melting every time their eyes met and couldn’t stop blushing because he kept thinking about their morning.

Really, it was hard now to think that he had ever thought that being sent to Draenor was a bad thing.

Once lunch had been eaten they all started to work, Vargoth locking himself at the top of the tower while the apprentices went out to work some more on the ley lines.

Ravandwyr knew that something was wrong the moment he stepped outside.

Naberius was dismissive and Melrum just shrugged when he told them, but nothing could shake off the feeling that something was _very_ wrong.

He considered turning around and going back to the tower to talk to Vargoth, before deciding against it. He had no proof and while he knew the archmage would trust him even if all he said was “because I’m an elf and we _know_ these kind of things” he also knew that Vargoth could not show favoritism toward him, and blind trust probably fell into this category.

So he went on on his day. He did his job, anxiety weighing more and more in his chest, and tried to pretend that everything was good.

“See,” said Naberius after they had finished for the day and were on their way back to Kirin’var, “I told you it was nothing. You paranoia will get the best of you.”

Ravandwyr opened his mouth to reply with something cutting when a loud _crack_ resonated, loud enough that the three of them fell on their knees.

Melrum yelled something but Ravandwyr could just watch his red agitated face move, his ears ringing too much for him to hear anything.

His head was swimming and he felt like he was going to throw up at any second, but he forced himself to take a deep breath in and look up.

It was a mistake.

“Light,” he muttered as the literal _rift_ in the sky grew bigger, swallowing its light blue with dark purple.

There was a second crack, not that Ravandwyr heard it, but he _felt it_. It was coming from under them, he realized when a third one echoed, making the ground shake.

“We need to go!” he yelled, but it was mute to his own ears, and when he tried to get up, everything around him spun so hard, he immediately fell face first back on the ground.

He decided to crawl his way to Melrum.

The dwarf seemed to understand what he wanted to do, since he nodded as soon as their eyes met and started started to crawl after him.

Ravandwyr, although he disliked Naberius, didn’t particularly want him dead, but the human refused to bulge and they were forced to leave him where he was.

They started to crawl on the shaky ground, Ravandwyr gritting his teeth against the pressure in the air hurting them, but didn’t get far before another _crack_ , louder and more violent than the ones before, created a huge fissure on the ground, right between the two of them.

Ravandwyr and Melrum exchanged a panicked look, the ground now shaking harder under them, and before they could react there was a flash in the sky, blinding and burning even behind Ravandwyr’s closed eyelids.

A lot of things happened all at the same time after that, but Ravandwyr, deaf and blind to all of it, could only feel the tremors and a sudden surge of magic all around him.

He passed out the second he tried to open his eyes and was met with purple thunder and a sky darker than he had ever seen in his life.

  


  


***

  


  


It couldn’t have been more than two hours later when he woke up, but the sky was as dark as the last time he had seen it so it was hard to tell.

For a while he just laid there, eyes lost in the vast dark expense above him. The moons weren’t where they had been, he distantly thought, before another thought crossed his mind: Melrum wasn’t here.

He looked to his right, then to his left, before rolling over on his stomach, and starting to crawl again.

The once green and lush ground was now dead and purple, but he forced the thought out of his mind, because the more he was moving, the worse his thoughts got, because now he was also thinking about Kirin’var, and all its inhabitants, but mostly Vargoth.

Vargoth.

He blinked tears out of his eyes and told himself that if he had managed to survive, then so had the crazily talented archmage he was in love with.

So he kept going, until he was close enough to see Kirin’var in the distance, and the sight took his breath away because of how much despair it brought him.

 _The sea was gone_. Two third of the village had disappeared, but the tower was still whole, and that was the only thing that kept him moving.

A battlemage came to his aid as he was entering the village.

“Ravandwyr!” he called, running to him and helping him up, “How did you survive? Everyone thought you were dead.”

Ravandwyr just stared at him, because while he knew that the human was talking since his lips were moving, he also still couldn’t hear anything, and tried to tell him.

The battlemage nodded, and they started to walk to the tower in silence.

A priest ran up to them as soon as they approached the crowd around the building, and she started to talk, Light coming off of her palms as she cupped his head between her hands.

A moment later, all sounds came rushing back to him: the wind blowing, the priest’s prayer, the people sobbing and talking with agitation. All unfamiliar sounds, that didn’t go with what Ravandwyr associated that tower with.

“That should be better. I’ll tell the Archmage that you’re here,” said the priest, but Ravandwyr stopped her from leaving.

“Is he in the tower?”

“At the top,” she nodded.

“I’ll go tell him myself then,” he said.

“You can barely walk,” commented the battlemage, but Ravandwyr had already started to cast a teleportation spell. He was so used to it, having done this exact same thing at least a million times before, it only took him a minute.

He appeared next to Vargoth’s desk, like usual, but the office was empty, and he just looked around for a moment, feeling lost around all the books and parchments that hadn’t moved at all despite the destruction outside.

The door to Vargoth’s private chambers was half open, so Ravandwyr decided to go look there.

He found his archmage sitting on their bed, with his back to him, his elbows on his knees and holding his head.

The relief surging through his chest was so intense, it made him dizzy for a second.

“Vargoth,” he said, and watched as the man jumped in surprise and turned around to look at him, love and surprise and relief and so many other things flashing through his eyes.

Mostly, he looked like he was witnessing a miracle, and Ravandwyr waited patiently for him to get to his feet, cross the space separating them and hug him close and tight.

“Ansurfador,” he murmured against his shoulder, gripping his dirty robes in tight fists and his entire body shaking.

Ravandwyr froze, wondering if Vargoth knew what the word _really_ meant, but Vargoth dispelled any doubt by repeating it a second time, before using the less meaningful equivalent in Common.

“Ansurfador,” replied Ravandwyr, finally wrapping his arms around him too, holding on to him as tight as he could, before he closed his eyes and pressed his lips against the crown of Vargoth’s head, trying to commit the moment and feeling to memory.

  


  


***

  


  


“Ravandwyr!” gasped Vargoth, one hand surging up to grip one of the headboard’s bar while the other tightened its grip in the elf’s hair.

Ravandwyr only smiled, pushing his thighs a little more apart and sucking a kiss into his skin just a _little bit_ lower.

Vargoth moaned when Ravandwyr got even lower and used a bit of teeth, right next to the base of his erection, so he did it again, because that moan was one of the best sound he had _ever_ heard.

“Ravandwyr,” tried the archmage again, because he was stubborn and sometimes didn’t know when to stop and just give in, “Ravandwyr you should sleep, you–” he stopped with a grunt, head thrown back and hips surging up as Ravandwyr took him in his mouth.

But only the tip, because he wanted to make it last and have fun.

After all, post end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it sex _ought_ to be playful and sloppy and loud.

So Ravandwyr suckled on his tip and lapped at the precum leaking, keeping one hand on his thigh to keep them wide open, and the other on his stomach, so he could feel the muscles quiver under his palm, sometimes planting his nails in his skin when Vargoth tried to quiet a sound.

“I want to hear you,” he murmured between open mouth kisses down his erection.

“Ravandwyr,” hiccuped Vargoth in answer, using his hand in the elf’s hair to pull him higher, until Ravandwyr was sprawled over him, just so he could kiss him for a while.

Ravandwyr wished he could say that he was shocked by how hungry Vargoth seemed, but he understood. They had both thought that the other was dead, Vargoth for a longer time than Ravandwyr, and he wanted to make sure he was _here_ with him. Usually, Ravandwyr was the hungry and impatient one, and even though he wanted to take his time that night, he knew that his turn would arrive, so he opened his mouth for the man under him and let him lead the kiss.

For a while they did just that, kissing like the world had just ended, while Ravandwyr ran his hands over all the skin he could reach, feeling like it wasn’t nearly enough, even though Vargoth was trying to pull him even closer.

“Here,” panted the archmage after a while, breaking the kiss to nip at his neck.

He pushed something into Ravandwyr’s hand, who managed to connect his brain for one entire second to realize that it was the bottle of oil they kept handy.

“Are you sure?”

Vargoth nodded, and Ravandwyr uncorked the bottle and set to work.

About an hour before, now, after they had held onto each other and cried and made sure the other was still alive and well, Vargoth had forced Ravandwyr into a bath, proceeded to clean him up, and the entire thing had ended with Vargoth fingering him open for thirty minutes until he had finally touched him _elsewhere_ and Ravandwyr had come.

Ravandwyr, considering how things had gone from there, had thought that the day would end with him riding Vargoth, but he was fine with the alternative, especially when Vargoth’s eyelashes fluttered and he panted against his chin when Ravandwyr pushed the first finger in.

“Okay?” he asked after a while.

Vargoth nodded, grabbing him by the shoulders and holding on tight when he added a second finger.

“Just tell me if it hurts, okay?”

Again, Vargoth nodded, and when he tilted his chin up, Ravandwyr leaned down to kiss him.

 _I’ll never leave him_ , he thought.

  


  


***

  


  


“We’re here today to say goodbye to all the people we lost,” started Vargoth.

Ravandwyr, a tight knot in his throat, looked away from the man he loved, feeling like the ground was shaking underneath him again.

The goats and chickens were all dead, but the building housing them had partially survived and the names of all the people who had died in Kirin’var had been engraved on the lone wall still standing.

Melrum was among them. Melrum, and Naberius, and the innkeeper, and Joras the apprentice who had taken up Ravandwyr’s old job. He had known nothing about taking care of animals, and Ravandwyr had spent several hours teaching him.

And now he was dead.

Vargoth was still speaking in front of the survivors, but Ravandwyr couldn’t look at him yet – he didn’t want to cry in front of everyone.

All the survivors, except for him, were alive thanks to the Archmage. He had raised an arcane barrier above as much of the city as he could, and had hold on until everything had calmed down.

Ravandwyr knew that Vargoth felt guilty for not managing to save everyone, for having people from _his_ city die on _his_ watch, and the elf knew that no matter what he did or say, that feeling would only fade with time, but it didn’t mean he didn’t feel absolutely terrible for him.

He listened with half an ear as Vargoth finished his speech, bringing half of the assembly to tears, and various people took their turns talking about who they had lost.

Once the ceremony was finished and everyone went back to working on rebuilding the city, Ravandwyr drifted in the direction of the port. Nothing but the small landing was still there, now leading to what Vargoth had called the Twisting Nether, and for a while he just stared at it with empty eyes.

“You’re thinking about Azaeyn, aren’t you?” asked Vargoth from behind him.

Ravandwyr nodded, closed his eyes and leaned back against him when Vargoth wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him close to his chest, his chin on Ravandwyr’s shoulder.

“Someone could see us,” he said after a while, grabbing Vargoth’s hands and intertwining their fingers despite what he was saying.

“I don’t care,” replied Vargoth, right into his ear, making him shiver. “I almost lost you, and we _did_ lost so much… I couldn’t care less if someone saw us.”

“You really meant it when you called me ansurfador?”

“Yes.”

“And you know what it means for an elf?”

“I do.”

Ravandwyr let go of his hands and turned around in his arms, gently cupping his jaw and looking down into his eyes.

“I mean it too, _ansurfador_. You’re never getting rid of me now.”

Vargoth chuckled and kissed him.

  


  


4\. Life Is So Strange, There’s No Time For Revenge

Ravandwyr had lost track of how much time had pass since he had arrived here. He knew that Vargoth kept a diary, where everything was meticulously described, with dates and everything, but he preferred not to know – the days before he got together with Vargoth didn’t even count anyway.

He didn’t think he would ever forget the events that were set into motion that night though.

A few months had passed, and Kirin’var was now finally rebuilt and its people were starting to get back on their feet. Naberius and Melrum were still presumed dead, and Ravandwyr, as Vargoth’s now sole apprentice had _so much_ work to do, he didn’t have tome to stop and worry about anything – and after all, he thought that the worst had already happened and he didn’t need to fear anything else.

Weeks and weeks later, after everything had happened and he was left all alone to pick up the pieces of his life, he’d curse himself for his naivety.

_He should have known something terrible was about to happen._

But he didn’t, so that night, Ravandwyr did what he usually did. He took a bath with Vargoth, the archmage reading out loud some of his research while Ravandwyr shampooed his hair and critiques his grammar, then they both got to bed, made out for a while, exchanged a handjob and went to sleep, Ravandwyr spooning Vargoth.

The elf woke up several hours later, shaky and sweaty, eyes filled with tears and a scream on his tongue that just didn’t want to come out vocalized.

“What’s going on?” asked Vargoth next to him, sitting up too and putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Ravandwyr tried to talk but his voice refused to work and he was left gaping at Vargoth, who frowned and drew closer.

“Ravandwyr, you’re scaring me, what is it? Another nightmare?”

He shook his head, pressing his hands against his chest, where everything was happening, and tried to speak again, but only his raged breath came out.

This time Vargoth got on his knees and moved on the bed to face him, looking scared as he started wiping tears away from his cheeks.

“I’m here, okay? I’m here, it’s going to be fine.”

Lips quivering, Ravandwyr shook his head and grabbed one of Vargoth’s hands to press it against his chest too, where a giant chasm was growing where there used to be Light and magic.

  


  


***

  


  


It only got worse. The healers didn’t know what to do, not that Ravandwyr blamed them, since there was nothing to do. He knew why he was hurting so much – or at least he knew the source, because the only logical explanation was simply _not_ possible.

The Sunwell couldn’t have been destroyed. He didn’t want to believe it.

“He’s suffering from withdrawal and shock,” said one of the priests after a week.

Ravandwyr didn’t know a lot about her, but she had a foreign accent and had absolutely _never_ given him shit because he was an elf. He kinda liked her, especially since she was the only one who kept a calm head in front of Vargoth’s panic and seemed to know what was happening to him.

Vargoth and the two other priests in the room turned to him, and Ravandwyr nodded weakly.

“I’ll grab a mana potion,” said the priestess with the accent, “we’ll see if it helps at all and we’ll go from there.”

  


  


***

  


  


Life, after that, was a little hazy. Ravandwyr didn’t talk much, worry and that insatiable need for the Sunwell’s magic eating at him, and he went through most days on habit.

Vargoth tried to help as much as he could, and he did succeed in making this a lot less terrible than it could have been, but there was only so much he could so, and they both knew it.

Mostly, Ravandwyr found himself thinking about his family a lot. If the Sunwell was destroyed, it meant they were suffering just like him – or worse. Something powerful enough to destroy the Sunwell could have easily destroyed Quel’thalas and kill everyone there, but he tried not to think about it too much.

Unfortunately, he got to know the truth not long after.

He was walking down a path, on the outskirts of Kirin’var, when someone grabbed his arm, put a hand on his mouth and pulled him away.

“It’s me, don’t attack,” murmured a feminine voice against his ear in Thalassian, and his heart skipped a beat in shock, happiness and relief.

 _So much relief_.

“Azaeyn?” he asked when the hand on his mouth disappeared.

The other hand let him go and he turned around, seeing his friend for the first time in months.

He grabbed her shoulders and hugged her as tight as he could, feeling just a tiny bit of his constant anxiety lessen when she hugged him back just as tight.

“Thank the Light you’re okay,” he breathed.

“The the Light _you_ are,” she replied, squeezing him one last time before stepping away and putting her hands on his shoulders to inspect him, “I thought you might be dead after what happened to the planet.”

Ravandwyr shook his head but didn’t reply, too shocked by what he was seeing on her face to speak.

“You’re looking at my eyes,” she said with a tiny sad smile, “it’s strange, I know, I’m still not used to it either, but it’s the only thing that helps with the withdrawal.”

“So you feel it. The Sunwell?”

“Destroyed, like most of Quel’thalas. I know you had family there, and I’m so sorry if you lost anyone, but something worse is about to happen.”

“Worse?” he asked, barely registering what was happening.

“Kael’thas is going to attack Kirin’var, that’s why I’m here. I’m risking a lot but I can’t let you die.”

“Wait, Prince Kael’thas? What’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you everything tonight. Bring Archmage Vargoth with you, here, and I’ll tell you everything that’s happened, okay?”

Ravandwyr nodded, stunned and still stuck on the news of what had happened to his former home, and he watched in silent as Azaeyn walked away and disappeared.

  


  


***

  


  


“We need to do something,” said Ravandwyr.

“We won’t until they force us to.”

“We know they will, why should we wait?!”

“Because we’re not going to attack them first,” replied Vargoth, as calm as ever, gently grabbing Ravandwyr’s hand on his desk and running his thumb over his knuckles, a tiny smile playing at his lips.

“Are you _happy_?” asked Ravandwyr with a frown. “Because you shouldn’t. In fact, you should be as upset about this as I am.”

“I’m not happy,” replied Vargoth, keeping his eyes firmly anchored to his, “it just feels good to finally have you back, ansurfador.”

Ravandwyr felt warmth rise from his collar to his face and wondered how that man still managed to make him blush with just very few words.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” immediately said Vargoth, his smile growing bigger as he brought Ravandwyr’s hand closer to his face to kiss it. “None of what happened is your fault, and it breaks my heart to see you pay the price like this every day, so I’m just glad to see that your fire still burns as bright as ever, or even brighter still.”

For a moment Ravandwyr just looked at him, feeling burning butterflies trying to escape his stomach, and he choked a little on all the feelings he had for him.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” replied Vargoth, kissing his hand again.

  


  


***

  


  


In the end, Ravandwyr wished Vargoth hadn’t been as gentle as usual. It was one of the qualities he admired in him, but he feared that it was also what cause the destruction of Kirin’var.

Maybe if they had acted first, none of the following events would have happened. Maybe more people would have survived.

Maybe Ravandwyr wouldn’t have been forced to leave everyone behind, including Vargoth.

But it didn’t matter, because Vargoth refused to attack first, arguing that there was no reason for Kael’thas to attack them, and they managed to hold the sin’dorei army back for three days the first time they tried to march on Kirin’var.

Half of the battlemages died during the second attack and Azaeyn managed to teleport in and out of the tower just long enough to tell Ravandwyr about a manabomb before they _finally_ killed of the last of Kael’thas soldier.

Vargoth stayed quiet for a long time after Ravandwyr told him about it.

“Have you ever seen a manabomb before?” asked the elf long past the silence had crossed into uncomfortable.

Vargoth slowly shook his head and met his eyes, a level of gravity etched into his face that Ravandwyr had never seen before.

“Our defenses might be able to resist it,” he said after another moment.

“And if they’re not?”

“We’ll have to improvise,” replied Vargoth, before getting up and heading to his office.

Ravandwyr, instead of following him like he should, got on his knees and started praying for the Light’s protection.

  


  


***

  


  


When the bomb dropped on Kirin’var, it felt like the weight of the entire world was suddenly pressing down on them.

Ravandwyr gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, trying to stay focused as he let arcane magic flow through him and into the barrier all the mages in the city were alimenting. He was a lot less powerful than he had once been, but he didn’t think his former strength would have been enough anyway.

The first screams came about a minute after the weapon was dropped on them, and half of the barrier vanished, letting the city and all the people that hadn’t been able to fit into the Tower vulnerable to the arcane magic thundering down on them, scorching everything it came in contact with.

“Fall back!” screamed Vargoth.

Most battlemages immediately did as he said, but Ravandwyr waited, looking at the archmage and the grim expression on his face, feeling his stomach drop. He was going to do something the elf wasn’t going to like, he just _knew_ it.

Still, he fell back and joined him, taking a second to admire his face when he was so focused.

“What’s the plan?” he asked.

Vargoth made sure the barrier was going to hold without him, and turned to face Ravandwyr.

“We’ll seek refuge in the tower, it’s easier to defend.”

Ravandwyr nodded and grabbed Vargoth’s staff when it was handed to him.

“What should I do with it?”

Instead of replying, Vargoth stepped into his space and cupped his face in his palm, thumb caressing his cheekbone, a pained expression on his face.

“You’re going to run and find someone to help us. Azaeyn or anyone else.”

“But—”

“You were the best apprentice I could have ever hoped for,” Vargoth cut him, a sad smile on the lips. “You are kind and loyal and smart and talented. I’ll never forget the day we met, ansurfador.”

“Vargoth,” tried Ravandwyr, his throat tying itself in a knot.

“I love you, and our time together are the best memories I have ever made. I don’t think you realize the extend to which you rocked my world.”

“Don’t say things like this, please,” he murmured, lips wobbling and tears starting to fill his eyes, “you’re not gonna die.”

“No,” replied Vargoth, smiling sadly, his eyes saying something else, “I could never do that to you.”

“Good. Because I love you too and I refused to go on if you’re not here.”

Vargoth chuckled, tears escaping his eyes to stream down his face, and when he got on his tiptoes Ravandwyr was already leaning down to kiss him.

“Don’t you dare leave me,” warned the elf against his lips when they broke the kiss, just to make sure.

Vargoth nodded, fingers falling from his cheek to his long hair.

“I love you so much,” he said, one last time, “now go save us.”

Ravandwyr nodded, took one more second to look at him – at his icy blue eyes and strawberry hair, his violet robes and that ridiculous hat he wore more often than not, heart filled to the brim with love and tenderness – and started running, clutching Vargoth’s staff against his chest, putting an arcane barrier up around him.

  


  


***

  


  


Ravandwyr never had the chance to step foot into Kirin’var ever again, not that it was what bothered him the most.

He had lost Vargoth’s staff to demons. He was all alone in a strange city of goblins and etherals called Area 52, where absolutely no one wanted to help him. Worse, he had seen from afar the moment the arcane barrier around Kirin’var had fallen and all the destruction had reached it.

It haunted his nightmares and the fact that Vargoth hadn’t contacted him yet – _couldn’t_ – was making it worse.

He thought about going back to Azeroth on a daily basis. Surely, someone would be able to help them there. He hadn’t seen anyone from the Kirin Tor and wondered if they had just completely forgot about them, if they thought them dead after what had happened to the planet. The only thing stopping him from leaving was the fact that he didn’t have Vargoth’s staff anymore, and without it he couldn’t contact him.

So Ravandwyr waited, _for months_. Time passed, adventurers started to venture to this part of the world, but none were willing to help him, and he distrusted most trolls, orcs and so called blood elves anyway.

Then one day, a human and two draenei entered the city, and for some reason Ravandwyr _knew_ the moment the woman met his eyes that it was finally time.

She went to the inn with her two companions, sending a look at him over her shoulders just as she was entering the building, and he felt his heart beat a little faster.

The woman came to him two hours later, alone.

“Your dragonhawk is cute,” she said in Thalassian as she approached, looking at the pet Ravandwyr had accidentally adopted from a goblin woman who had chatted loud and fast enough to lose him after only two words.

“You speak Thalassian,” he replied, watching with furrowed brows as she gently touched the dragonhawk’s head.

“Yes. I used to be a Kirin Tor apprentice, just like you I think, and the archmage I worked with was a quel’dorei.”

 _This is it_ , he thought.

“You’re not Kirin’tor anymore?”

She smiled sadly and shook her head.

“Good. I think something was cast in Kirin’var, I can barely approach it before feeling something pulling me away.”

“What happened exactly?”

Ravandwyr told her.

“I’ll help you,” she said, two hours later, after they had both gone to the inn and sat down together, away from the two draenei men she had been with, and she had paid him a drink. “I’ll get the staff and the archmage back, I promise.”

Ravandwyr blinked, feeling blinded by relief and renewed hope, and he forced himself not to hug her – it would have probably been weird.

“It will be dangerous,” he warned.

“I’m used to it,” she shrugged, “besides, it’s not like I’m alone.”

Ravandwyr looked over his shoulder at the two draenei watching them.

“They’re your friends?”

“More like family,” she smiled and Ravandwyr nodded.

  


  


***

  


  


Seeing Vargoth’s projection through his staff had been like a punch in the throat, but finally having him right in front of him was a whole other thing.

For a while they just stared at each other without speaking, while the mage who had helped them, Lidya, stayed back. Ravandwyr wanted to cry a little, but he also wanted to take him in his arms and kiss him until he was forced to stop, but it had been _months_ since that fateful day and he wasn’t sure about the archmage’s reaction, so he waited.

He waited, and he watched him, heart pounding in his chest as Vargoth, as beautiful as ever, took a step in his direction and opened his arms.

Ravandwyr melted into him. He might have started crying at some point too, because Vargoth was running fingers through his hair and shushing him, but the elf was too happy to even care and, shaking life a leaf, he held onto the back of his robes, buried his face against his neck and stayed there for a while.

 _I’ll never leave him again_ , he thought.

  


  


***

  


  


Lidya had opened a portal for them to Shattrath, where they had found one for Stormwind, and Ravandwyr couldn’t help but feel unease at all the stares he was getting from the people there.

He was sitting alone on a bench in the mage quarter, waiting while Vargoth was speaking to some archmages he knew, and now that the adrenaline rush of finally seeing Vargoth again was fading, his mind was starting to run wild.

He had no idea what he was going to do now. Would Vargoth still need an apprentice if he went back to Dalaran? Would the Kirin Tor accept him if they knew that he had run away instead of staying with the archmage during Kael’thas’ attack?

Would they even want an elf there?

Other doubts started creeping in, about his relationship with Vargoth. They hadn’t had time to talk yet, and there was a strange kind of tension between them that hadn’t been here before, ever. He didn’t think the man would throw him away, not after how long they had been together, but he wondered what he’d say if the Kirin Tor didn’t want him.

He got his answer only a moment later, when Vargoth got out of the mage tower and joined him with long strides, looking agitated.

“Is everything okay?”

Vargoth took a second to just look at him, his face and shoulders slowly relaxing, before he nodded.

He grabbed one of Ravandwyr’s hands and intertwined their fingers, smiling softly.

“I feel better now. Come, there’s a room waiting for us.”

Ravandwyr nodded and trailed after him as they started to walk to the closest inn, feeling a little lost but not saddened the slightest by the hand-holding, quite the contrary. People were still staring at him and his ears, but Vargoth by his side gave him a sort of strength that helped him keep his chin up and be confident.

They arrived at their room without problem and Ravandwyr was pleasantly surprised to find that they was only one big bed in it.

Vargoth immediately sat down at the foot of the bed, sighing and closing his eyes, and for a while Ravandwyr just stood there, watching him.

“This has been one of the longest day of my life,” finally said the archmage after a while.

“Tell me about it,” chuckled Ravandwyr, drawing closer, until he was just in front of him, and he knelt on the floor and put his hands on Vargoth’s knees, waiting for a reaction.

The man smiled and leaned back on his hands, slowly opening his eyes to look down at him.

“What are you doing?”

Ravandwyr shrugged a shoulder. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

“Good. Next time you tell me to leave you behind, I won’t do it.”

“I’ll never ask this again, I promise.”

“Good,” replied Ravandwyr, tears as unexpected as they were sudden filling his eyes, and he closed his eyes when one of Vargoth’s hands reached up to cup his face.

“I thought about you every day, it’s the only thing that kept me sane,” murmured Vargoth, his thumb gently running over Ravandwyr’s cheekbone. “I would close my eyes and imagine your face, your eyes,” his thumb brushed against his eyelashes, “your hair. Your hands, too. I would imagine I was holding you in my arms at night, and I would pretend you were here to nag at me when I spent all day reading.”

“It’s bad for your eyes and you’re always slouching,” replied Ravandwyr, opening his eyes with surprise when Vargoth laughed softly.

He had missed that sound.

“See? That’s what I would think about. You, always.”

Smiling, Ravandwyr ran his hands a little higher on his thighs and leaned closer, until his torso was against the bed.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t find a way to save you earlier, and I’m sorry I lost your staff.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad you escaped the demons.”

Ravandwyr sat back on his heels and leaned his head against Vargoth’s left thigh, something warm and lazy curling around his heart when Vargoth’s pupils dilated.

“What are we going to do now?” he asked, flipping his hair over his shoulder and shivering when Vargoth’s hand left his face to cup the side of his neck, palm just over his pulse-point.

“We’re going to Dalaran,” said the archmage, his voice hoarser than before. “You’re still my apprentice, and I wouldn’t let them keep you away from me anyway.”

“Obviously,” said Ravandwyr despite his earlier doubts, raising a hand to put it on Vargoth’s leg that wasn’t supporting his head, noting the way Vargoth’s breath hitched but he didn’t make any move.

“You need to finish your training.”

“I’m fine being your apprentice,” he said, thumb running back and forth the inside of his thigh.

Vargoth’s breath hitched again and Ravandwyr bit down on his lip, telling himself that now was finally his moment to go slow and easy.

“You should already be an archmage, considering the tremendous work you did for me.”

“Is that an innuendo?”

“You know I would never.”

They exchanged an amused, familiar smile, and for the first time since Azaeyn had first told them that Kael’thas was going to attack Kirin’var, Ravandwyr felt light and relaxed.

“So… Dalaran, uh?”

“You will cry after you see the view from my chambers,” replied Vargoth, his fingers running over the back of Ravandwyr’s neck, scratching at his hairline.

“I heard the city is floating in the sky now.”

“It only makes the view more spectacular.”

“I bet it does.”

  


  


***

  


  


An hour later, after the slowest blowjob in both worlds they had lived in, Ravandwyr was slowly sinking into Vargoth, who, despite his obvious best effort, couldn’t stop moaning and panting and repeating Ravandwyr’s name.

“Did you think about this too?” he breathed against the archmage’s collarbone, before sucking a hickey into his skin, giving shallow thrusts, until Vargoth’s nails were racking over his back, making him bleed.

“Yes, yes I _ah_ – I thought about that.”

“A lot?” he asked, letting go of his skin to give him another hickey higher on his neck.

“ _Yes_ ,” moaned Vargoth.

“Is the reality better?”

“ _So much better_ ,” panted Vargoth, opening his eyes to look up at him with heavy eyelids.

His lips were red and puffy and slightly parted and Ravandwyr couldn’t resist, he leaned down to kiss him, moaning when Vargoth grabbed the back of his head and made sure to keep him right where he was.

 _Nothing_ could ever be better than that. A moaning and happy Vargoth in his arms who was trying to pull him even closer and didn’t let him break their kiss.

A moaning and happy Vargoth who started sucking on his lower lip when Ravandwyr finally managed to stop their kiss.

A moaning and happy Vargoth who thrashed so hard when Ravandwyr changed his angle _just so_ , he almost pushed the elf off of him.

Ravandwyr had to admit that while Dalaran sounded good, he never wanted to leave this bedroom.

  


  


5\. Can’t Lose It

Life went on.

They moved to Dalaran – and Vargoth hadn’t been joking, the view from his “retreat” was one of the most amazing thing he had ever seen – and went back to work.

The first real big change that happened was one early afternoon. Vargoth was squinting at an old parchment while Ravandwyr was copying some useful information from a book another apprentice had loaned him when It Happened.

Vargoth felt it too, because he abruptly turned to Ravandwyr and gaped at him a little.

“What happened?” he asked when Ravandwyr just stared at him with a smile breaking on his face. “Something changed.”

“It did,” replied Ravandwyr, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. “Can you feel it, ansurfador?”

Vargoth nodded, before closing his eyes and frowning in concentration.

“Something about you shifted,” he said, “but it feels familiar.”

“Because it is.”

Vargoth opened his eyes again and Ravandwyr abandoned what he was doing to stride to him before graciously sitting down on his lap, straddling him.

“The Sunwell, ansurfador,” he said, softly, combing gentle fingers through the archmage’s hair. “Some of my power just came back to me, that’s what happened.”

Vargoth looked up at him with something in his eyes that made the elf shake, his hands going to Ravandwyr’s waist as a smile broke on his face too.

“Do you feel better?”

“I actually do.”

“I’m glad,” he replied, before pulling Ravandwyr to his chest and holding him close for a while.

  


  


***

  


  


The war in Northrend kept them busy but secure inside Dalaran, and for the following years nothing as dramatic as what they had already been through happened to any of them.

Ravandwyr was very vocal about his absolute refusal of letting Vargoth go to the alternate Draenor, but his archmage was too damned smart for anyone’s own good and he still managed to, in a way, go while still staying with Ravandwyr on Azeroth.

Vargoth was promoted to the Council of Six shortly after Lady Jaina became the leader of the Kirin Tor, but he insisted on keeping Ravandwyr as his apprentice, and while not a lot of people even suspected the kind of relationship they truly had, everyone knew by now that they wouldn’t be separated.

Never again.

The Legion’s attacked on Dalaran and Azeroth in large, while not surprising, still shocked Ravandwyr a little, but no one he cared about got hurt in the process of teleporting the city, and the campaign against the Legion started.

“They’re reforming the Tirisgarde,” said Vargoth one night.

The room was absolutely dark, the lights of the city not strong enough to reach them up here, and Ravandwyr, who had an ear against Vargoth’s chest and his legs tangled with his, couldn’t help but feel like this was it. He could never be happier than he was right now.

“You want to join them, don’t you,” smiled Ravandwyr, goosebumps appearing on his arm when Vargoth started running his fingers on it. He felt more than he heard his chuckle and started tracing nonsense patterns on his chest with the tip of his index. “You just can’t help it. The life of an archmage doing nothing but boring desk work really isn’t your style.”

“No it’s not,” said Vargoth, a huge smile on his face when Ravandwyr tilted his chin to get a look at him. “Why, would you prefer if I was that kind of archmage?”

“Absolutely not,” replied the elf before pressing his face against Vargoth’s chest when the man’s fingers left his arm to gently trace the edge of his left ear. His fingers flexed against Vargoth’s chest. “Do you want another round this badly?”

“Not particularly,” replied Vargoth with mirth, his fingers not stopping on his ear, even doubling his effort when Ravandwyr shivered, “but I could go again, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“It’s not totally my fault if having a very naked and very beautiful elf in my bed gives me ideas.”

He gently pinched the tip of his ear and Ravandwyr muffled a very embarrassing sound, pressing his entire body against Vargoth’s side now, including his growing erection.

“Looks like you could go another round too.”

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” replied Ravandwyr, although they both knew he was far from unhappy.

  


  


***

  


  


If he had known then, that this was going to be his last night with Vargoth as he knew him, Ravandwyr would have joked a little more with him. He would have talked with him a little more, and more importantly, he wouldn’t have let him leave their bed the next day.

Alas, Ravandwyr couldn’t know, so the next day he followed Vargoth to Azsuna, where the archmage suspected a powerful artifact was being kept, and when Vargoth asked him to go back to Dalaran to ask Meryl for his help, he had just smiled and done as he was told.

He shouldn’t have.

  


  


***

  


  


For six months, three weeks and five days, Ravandwyr’s life completely stopped. Vargoth, _his_ archmage, was missing, presumed to be a captive of the Legion, and the elf’s only goal was to bring him back.

During those six months, it was his only reason to live. He got up in the morning, ate his meals and functioned like a normal person only for that purpose. Vargoth needed him at his best, not curled up in the sheets that still had his smell clinging to it, sobbing.

For some reason, the fact that the person leading the Tirisgarde and the search for Vargoth was Lidya, the mage who had already saved him in Outland, helped a lot. Ravandwyr trusted her and knew she was a capable mage. She tried to include him as much as she could in the effort and inquired about his frail mental health all the time.

They quickly became friends, and Ravandwyr, after six months, three weeks and five days, would have given his own life for her because _she brought Vargoth back_.

Ravandwyr had been anxiously waiting in the Hall of the Guardian all day, waiting for everyone to come back – knowing, deep inside, that this was it. Either Vargoth came back that day, or he was gone forever. He couldn’t explain how he knew this, but he just did.

So he waited, silently praying in his head, unable to stop himself from pacing, apprentices and conjurers moving out of his way.

He felt the shift in the air and abruptly turned around just as arcane magic flashed in the room and the entire party plus one were back.

Ravandwyr threw himself at Vargoth, already crying, not caring about the fact that absolutely everyone was watching. He firmly wrapped his arms around his archmage, buried his face against his shoulders, and started sobbing, feeling Vargoth shake in his arms as he hugged him back.

“Don’t you ever tell me to leave you, ansurfador. Never,” he said against his shoulder, in Thalassian by habit. “I can’t live without you, I can’t. I need you.”

Vargoth, instead of replying, cupped the back of his head and pressed his lips against his temple, letting him babble on and cry for a while.

  


  


***

  


  


Ravandwyr saw the difference in Vargoth immediately. The previously calm and soft spoken man was now jumpy, constantly nervous and couldn’t stay focused on anything for more than ten minutes at a time.

It broke his heart, and he felt like Vargoth knew it, because the archmage was also keeping his distance and visibly trying to spend as little time with him as possible.

Ravandwyr moved to the chambers he had been given and never used before, situated on a lower floor of the Violet Citadel, and spent three entire days crying in bed.

On the fourth day he was summoned by the Council of Six, to assist Vargoth during a meeting. He didn’t know what to expect and sat down next to the man he loved, sending him discreet looks whenever he could, trying to hide how nervous and brokenhearted he was.

The meeting started with Khadgar asking Vargoth about what had happened to him, and for a while they all just listened to Vargoth stammer through a confused explanation of what had happened. Most of it didn’t sound right, and it was easy to see that even Vargoth was frustrated with his inability to speak corehently for more than two sentences at a time.

To make matter worse, Ravandwyr could see his hands shake under the table, where he was keeping his hands in tight fists on his lap.

“ _I need to help him_ ,” he though, looking at the other archmages’ reactions.

It wasn’t good.

Vargoth had worked hard his entire life for his spot on the Council, and there was no way Ravandwyr was letting the Legion take it away from him, so he acted on instinct, because it had always worked with Vargoth in the past.

As discreetly as possible Ravandwyr put his hand on Vargoth’s thigh, sliding in until his fingers were on the inside of his thigh, and he squeezed comfortingly, breath catching when Vargoth abruptly stopped talking and turned to look at him.

His pupils were dilated and he had this fragile look on his face, but his hands had stopped shaking.

Ravandwyr offered him a small nod, Vargoth took a steady breath, nodded back, and turned once again to Khadgar.

“As you know,” he said, almost sounding like his old self, “Ravandwyr and I went to Azsuna.”

Ravandwyr bit down on a proud and happy smile, and listened closely, his hand not moving for the rest of the meeting.

  


  


***

  


  


It took them some time, but they learned to reacquaint with each other.

They mostly had a lot of sex.

“How does it feel?” asked Vargoth, looking closely as Ravandwyr, who had abandoned the idea of kissing him a while ago and was now just panting against his mouth, tried not to claw too much at his shoulders.

Vargoth thumbed at the precum leaking from his erection before he could remember how to form words, and Ravandwyr could only moan, tilt his chin down and get his lips on his jaw, trying to force Vargoth to do more than that by rutting against him.

He felt Vargoth’s slow laugh before he could hear it, and not for the first time that night he wondered how Vargoth was able to laugh like that when a fully grown elf was literally lying on him.

“I need more,” he murmured once he had left a mark right under Vargoth’s jaw, going back to panting against his skin, “I need you to _really_ touch me.”

“I am touching you,” replied the archmage, thumb running up and down his shaft, enough to make him shiver but not doing much else.

Ravandwyr whined, wondering how it was possible that he was receiving the best handjob of his life only just now, and he pressed his face against the side of Vargoth’s, breath shuddering when Vargoth finally wrapped his fingers around him and squeezed a little.

For some reason, being turned on tended to bring the best out of him. Ravandwyr just had to initiate some kind of intimate contact and wait until Vargoth was turning dilated pupils to him and _boom_ , most of the archmage from before was back. It was a little strange, but Ravandwyr couldn’t say that it chagrined him much. Time spent with Vargoth in bed was time spent away from the dangers of the world, and the sex was as amazing as ever, if not even more so, because he _knew_ that he had Vargoth’s entire attention, and it was making everything that much more intense.

He moaned when Vargoth wrapped an arm around his hips to hold him in place and _finally_ started giving him some friction, and for a while longer everything faded away but the warm body under his and the icy blue eyes watching him closely.

Reality only started to sneak back in after Vargoth had made the both of them come and Ravandwyr had announced that they weren’t moving, even to clean up.

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” murmured Vargoth against his hairline, right arm around him while his left hand was shaking slightly against the mattress.

“I’m sorry this happened to _you_ ,” replied Ravandwyr, putting his hand on Vargoth’s, feeling the tremors as he ran his thumb over the man’s knuckles.

“I wish I could have spared you all this pain.”

Keeping his eyes turned to their hands, Ravandwyr sighed softly.

“I don’t,” he said, feeling Vargoth look down at him. “You’re my everything. My lover, my home, my family. You’re the only one I have left, and if you feel pain, then so do I. It’s what ansurfador mean.”

“I understand,” started Vargoth, “but–”

“No.” There was a small silence, Vargoth’s hand shaking harder under his, and Ravandwyr turned his head to kiss him under the collarbone. “ _This_ ,” he said, insisting on the word, “is what ansurfador means. I’m yours until I die. We suffer together. We thrive together, like we’ve always done. If you lose yourself, I’m here to remind you who you are.” He stopped there, to get up on his elbow and look down into Vargoth’s eyes, unsurprised to find unshed tears and infinite love there. “You stayed by my side after I changed because of the Sunwell, I’ll stay by your side now that you’re changed because of the Legion.”

“But your situation could be reversed, mine can’t.”

“And it’s not a problem. We’re adapting to the change,” he said with a smile, pointedly looking at the dirty sheets, “and it gives us the opportunity to get to learn each other all over again.”

He let go of his hand to trail his up his arm to his shoulder, before leaning down and kissing him softly.

“I’m not sure I deserve you,” murmured Vargoth against his lips.

Ravandwyr chuckled, and kissed him again.

“I _know_ I don’t deserve you, but it’s fine. We’re good together.”

Vargoth nodded, and he was the one kissing him this time.

  


  


***

  


  


It took them months and years, most of them painful, but in the end, after defeating the Legion and all the other threats to Azeroth, Ravandwyr and Vargoth made it out alive.

“Archmage,” murmured a warm voice against Ravandwyr’s ear that morning, and the first thing he saw when opening his eyes were the red flowers in his gardens through the window they had left open the night before. “Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

Smiling, Ravandwyr, who was laying on his stomach and had someone pressed against the left side of his body, stretched like a cat and waited until two hands were slowly running up his back to speak.

“Call me like that again.”

“Archmage”

It took his breath away – but it had only been one day, so he guessed he had time to get used to it.

“My very own archmage,” continued the warm voice, the hands on his back gently guiding him to his back.

Ravandwyr rolled over and smiled brightly when he found Vargoth, leaning on an elbow, looking down at him.

Maybe it was just the fact that it was Vargoth calling him this that took his breath away. It sure had been the case the entire night before.

“How do you feel today?” asked Ravandwyr, his fingers slowly running up and down Vargoth’s chest.

“I feel good,” he replied – which was true. He looked calm and in control, wasn’t shaking, and his eyes were firmly focused on the elf beneath him.

“Great,” he smiled, before wrapping his arms around him and pulling him down against his chest, “the Kirin Tor can wait, I want to sleep more.

“Ravandwyr...” half-heartedly protested Vargoth, arms going around him anyway, “we need to get to Dalaran before ten.”

“A teleportation spell takes about eight seconds, and they can’t expect us to be up early, they _know_ we celebrated all night long.”

Vargoth laughed, a soft sound, his breath fanning over Ravandwyr’s neck and making him shiver as he turned his head to look through the window, at the flowers they had planted together after having the house rebuilt, the forest beyond it and the huge pillar of Light in the distance, giving warmth to everything it illuminated.

“You know,” murmured Ravandwyr after a while of just holding Vargoth and feeling him run the tip of his fingers across his shoulders and collarbones, “I’m glad my family cast me away to Dalaran.”

“I still can’t believe you almost set a noble on fire.”

“You’ve seen me in bed though,” he retorted, smiling when Vargoth laughed. “But seriously, being forced to join the Kirin Tor was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“It’s the best thing that ever happened to me too,” replied Vargoth, kissing his chest, before he moved his legs a little to be more comfortable, and closed his eyes.

For a moment Ravandwyr just looked down at him, chest filled with so much love, he didn’t know how he could still breathe around it, before he turned back to the window and watched the spring sun rise above Quel’thalas, Vargoth fast asleep on his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> Melrum and Azaeyn are OCs, I'm pretty sure I completely butchered Naberius' origin story and I have an entire fanfic dedicated to my mage Lidya, if you're interested. WoD kinda retconned the geography of the planet, but I decided to ignore it, just like I decided to ignore most canon things, cause I can.
> 
> I'd love you forever and ever if you leave me a comment, no matter how short and incoherent it is, and if you ever want to exchange headcanons about those two or any other small NPC, I'm @Naomida on tumblr and my askbox is always open ;)
> 
>  
> 
> Kisses!


End file.
